


I like that you're broken (broken like me)

by vaultfox



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bedsharing, Blood, Description of Injuries, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, Undercover AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultfox/pseuds/vaultfox
Summary: Needed a place to put all of my Rebelcaptain tumblr ficlets.(Tags will be added as fics are added, as you do.)





	1. "I bet it's a turtle." - tw: pregnancy, vomit/sickfic-ish

**Author's Note:**

> From the dialogue prompt "I bet it's a turtle." (This is about as close as I get to writing pregnancy/kid fic)

“Did you just black out?” It was Cassian behind her – panicked, as usual – before her world came back into focus. Sure, there’d been some spots in her vision, but only a few, nothing to worry about.

But her knuckles are white, all of her strength channeled into holding herself upright by the sink. “No,” she feigns a smile. “But … I think I’m gonna—“

“—puke,” Cassian finishes for her, at her side and brushing the hair from her face. She eyes him over her shoulder in-between heaves, then gives him a thankful smile.

A  hand loops under her elbow, easing her upright. Water is pushed into her hands, and he tightens his parka around her shoulders. She sighs, knowing there was no fighting the medbay this time.

* * *

 

The white lights of the medbay are harsh, the monitor pinging beside her even harsher; the only reprieve from it all was a relieved but slightly frazzled Cassian at her side, his fingers entangled with hers.

Beside herself, she smiles.

“So,” he whispers, pressing his elbows into the mattress. “I bet it’s a boy.”

“I bet it’s a turtle.”

He grips her hand tighter, rubbing the underside of her wrist lightly with his thumb.

“We’re going to have to work on your patience.”

“Cassian, seriously,” she turns to face him, her face cradled in the pillows. “It’s probably not even bigger than my eye right now.”

“So?” He smiles, and she thinks it might be the first time he’s smiled in weeks. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”

“And you’re telling _me_ to work on my patience?”

“I did, and I _meant_ it.”

”What for?”

“You _know_ what for,” his eyes roam her stomach and she laughs, tugging the sheets higher up.

“I’m _perfectly_ capable of handling my temper, Cassian.”

“Says the woman who once took out two drifters because they _looked_ at her wrong.”

“And I’d do it all over again,”

“I know, just … be careful, Jyn.” he looks down at his hand in hers. “I’ve only just gotten used to worrying about one person, don’t give me _more_ to worry about knowing there’s a second.”

“Not yet,” she’s grown tired of his concern, or perhaps, the growing lump in her throat. “But I’m sure we’ll give you plenty to worry about.”

Turning on her side, she pulls his hand in hers to rest along her stomach.

“I know,” he whispers, sliding onto the bed with her, fitting into her curves from behind. “You always do.”


	2. "You're worth it"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dialogue prompt, this time for "You're worth it." 
> 
> Content warning for: descriptions of injuries, angst, hurt/comfort.

Stormtrooper armor, she’s decided, is pointless _— and worst of all, white_ . She curses under her breath, her helmeted head dipping low, finding the bloodied crack that spanned her thigh. _We almost made it_ , she thinks as a laugh escapes her, and she feels Cassian’s hand tightens around her upper arm, gripped underneath the plastoid meant to protect her.

His arm is strong, slung over her shoulder and supporting most of her weight— more than she’d ever like to admit. His jaw slices through the air, whipping around in a frenzied attempt to find cover. She wishes she had the energy to tell him that there was none, to leave her behind—

“Over here,” he orders, and her back connects with a slanted wall. He's gone for a moment, and her head grows heavier, the helmet doing more harm than good as she struggles to keep upright, but Cassian is there quick as he’d left, with arms at her shoulders lowering her slowly to the ground.

“It’s alright,” she thinks he says, “We’re getting out of here, it’s alright.”

He rips off his gloves and the thigh piece from her leg, forcing her hand over top of the wound. She can’t see it, the muddled red blending too close with the black of her under suit, but the warmth leaking through her gloved fingers lets her know she’s found it. His hands work at the rest of her armor, pulling off piece by piece. They’re shaking, she thinks, and he doesn’t speak --- doesn’t look at her, but the pitch of his breath echoes sharp in her ear.

“What’re you—,” she slurs, and he releases the helmet from her head.

Her head falls to the side, immediately pulled back up by calloused hands. She tries to breathe through the static, the hot pulsing behind her lids, and finally manages two slits that focus in on his darkened gaze, still lost beneath the shadows of the Imperial hat’s brim.

He’s quiet, but his hands grip tighter, as if some of his strength might transfer through them to her. “I’m getting us out of here,” he reminds her, voice wired tight and thin, and he let’s go of her briefly to remove his hat and jacket.

“Cassian, no,” her voice wavers, sobs catching in her throat, _h_ _e’s wasting time,_ his _time_ , before finishing, “you can still get … it’s not worth, you —”

“Stop,” he wraps the jacket around her thigh, voice cranked tight as the knot he tied, “you’re worth it.”

Jyn bites her lip hard and swallows, her hand finding his atop the soaked though fabric. His undershirt is rumpled, streaked with her own blood, and his hand presses firmer against hers, saying what neither could voice even after all they’d been through —

_I’m not leaving you behind._

She closes her eyes and his forehead rests against hers. The static is louder and harder to push away, while her grip on reality shifts as arms cradle her shoulders, her knees — and she lets her head sag into his chest. His whole body thrums, and she almost misses it — the faint whisper cutting through the galloping in his chest.

“You’ll always be worth it,” and she sleeps thinking that might be true.


	3. "Stay here tonight"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Chrimmis, everyone! Have some Rebelcaptain bed-sharing, post-Scarif :)
> 
> cw: hurt/comfort, fluff and bedsharing.

The walk to his quarters feels achingly long, though that’s probably more to do with to the fact she has no idea  _ where _ they are. She hadn’t seen much of Hoth outside it’s medbay and her own cramped quarters. Cassian hobbles beside her, determined to make the trek on his own merit. Her palm burns to rest against his back, to support him in the smallest of ways but she holds back, instead fidgeting with the snaps of her glove.

Those they meet in the halls say nothing, instead moving aside with their eyes hovering the icy floor. Scarif had been no secret, and they hadn’t expected it to be. No, all they expected from that was they wouldn’t be around to see its’ aftermath, to tend to their wounds --- or in Cassian’s case --- marvel that he’d even managed to walk again.

But Jyn didn’t marvel, it was simply Cassian. Stubborn as all, down to walking out of medbay on his own just four weeks after they’d stolen the plans.

“Here,” he finally says, stopping in front of his quarters. His voice is cranked, trying to quell the pain simply walking seems to cause him. Jyn watches as he punches in the code, slow and controlled, as if he wants her to look over his shoulder, as if he knows she’d do it regardless.

The door hisses open and he motions for her to enter. She wants to humors him with a laugh, tell him he’s nothing but chivalrous even dead on his feet, but she instead enters quietly, her eyes never reaching his—- because in that moment he’s simply Cassian, others before himself, and the thought of it chokes any possibility of words from her.

By the time he manages himself onto his bed, she shifts awkwardly at its’ foot. He looks over and up at her, searches her face, and swings his legs up onto the mattress.

She shouldn’t be here, he doesn’t need her. Staying by his side in medical had been easier. She thought of it as her duty; she’d recruited him for Scarif, had to make sure he woke up. He couldn’t wake up alone, not when she knew all too well that terror and pain. Though as the nights grew long and the medbay grew familiar, she realized while Cassian lay sleeping for weeks healing, she had to find a way to heal while awake.

And she found that she couldn’t hope to begin doing so, not without him. She hadn’t provided him much help aside the dull ache he might feel at knowing she was at his side. He wasn’t able to protest, to disagree with the idea, so to her it had all been one-sided.

But she didn’t want to run anymore, though the thought flit through her mind  each morning she woke up to his closed eyes. The idea was there, always there, but the urge was not. It had become clear that she had Cassian to thank for that.

“Jyn?” she’s pulled from her thoughts and his stare paints concern.

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you were alright,” he sighs, shifting his legs underneath the covers.

Before she can stop herself, and her hands move on their own accord, pulling the covers over top of him. “Let me help you,” she bites, then pulls her hands back when she finds his eyes now full of surprise.

“I —, of course,” he clears his throat, arms laid flat over top the blankets.   


“Thank you,”  and she wants to punch him now. She hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done for he, but then he continues -- 

“For ...  for staying.”

She swallows and wonders what he means. With the Rebellion? With him? Or even right now, in this moment. She never quite settles on an outcome, instead battles the lump forming in her throat.

“Of course,” and she turns finally, an admission so casual and important at once.

“Jyn,” he clears his throat, and it’s his turn to stare at the wall. “You’ve … done a lot and I understand if you don’t want—“

His voice trails off, and he finds her gaze. There’s a sadness there, like when a child asks for something they know they can’t have. A smile tugs her lips, and it gives him the courage to continue.

“Stay here tonight.”

It’s meant as a question, though she doesn’t miss how he phrases it. She lets it hang in the air, half torn between relief and surprise. That he wants this, wants _her_ , if only for the comfort of another.

Cassian doesn’t move. She picks at the skin of her elbow, and flicks it away before nodding, short. So short he doesn’t see. So she does it again, again and again until she’s stifled her tears and regained her voice.

“Of course.”


	4. "Dance with me" - undercover AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dialogue prompt, "Dance with me" in an undercover AU. No real tw's, just some jittery Jyn and fluff :)

It should have come natural to her, assuming another identity — Lianna Sward, newly (and happily) married to Joreth, spending their first month together on Coruscant. Their debrief was short, Draven only offering their cover story. That, and their mission’s objective — gain intel on the Empire’s newest weapon, what the Alliance could only refer to as the second Death Star.

The first had brought them together, only natural they’d be sent after its’ successor.

* * *

 

Joreth Sward is a man of _ far _ too many words. She stands back as he speaks, hands flying in exuberance, a smile painting his face as he listened and spoke with the deepest intent. It was a marvel, how he became such a person.

She’d never compare, they wouldn’t believe  _ she  _ of all people—

“And this,” Joreth turns to her, and for a moment her heart stops, “is my wife, Lianna. We’re here to meet with Grandeef, have you seen him?”

_ Stars, he’s good. _ She flashes a smile but the man’s attention is already back on Joreth. And so is hers …

His bangs are gelled back, a tiny tuft of hair flipped at the nape of his neck. She wonders how long it took him to do that. The scruff on his face has been trimmed to a fine beard. She watches as he tugs lightly at his suit cuffs, stark white against black, and adjusts the bow tie to sit nicely along his collar.

“Ready?” it’s  _ his _ voice she hears, pulling her from her thoughts. The man he was with is gone and he eyes her up and down, his brows creasing slightly. She tugs at her dress, fire-red and short, too loud for her tastes and a  _ damn _ hard thing to blend in with.

She’s not ready.

“I’m scared,” she replies, startling herself, and gently slides her palm into his. She’s suddenly aware of how exposed her shoulders are, how the air hits her back and chest, and suddenly Cassian is too. He pulls her to the side, grips her hand tight and waits.

“You’re just so _ good  _ at this and I’m not, I’ll screw it up, I can’t talk to these type of people and you—,” her hectic breaths are swallowed by his lips, warm and in control, and she lets herself relax. His hand is at her back, fingers playing with the clasp of her kyber necklace, while the other pulls her achingly close.

“Just dance with me,” he pulls back, whispers into her hair. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she shakes, speaks to his lips, and he answers with another kiss. This time it’s soft, measured and warm, and she tugs him closer, tries to at least, though there’s no space left to breach. His hands find her shoulders and she leans in to him, finds the spot beneath his jaw and shoulder that’s undeniably Jyn’s.

He rests his chin on top of her, scans the room before speaking softly, nose buried in the crown of her head. “You’ll be fine, just … pretend you love me.”

“Would have been useful to know  _ that _ in the debrief,” and if she could bottle the feeling of his laughter, the warmth it spread in her own chest, she would be too lucky of a woman.

Before she can admire the roll of his eyes, he’s tugging her to the dance floor, giddy as Joreth Sward, but his voice held low just for her.

“We’ll have  _ plenty  _ more missions for you to practice, Lianna.”


End file.
